


New Year's Eve

by endoftheziam



Category: One Direction (Band), liam payne - Fandom, zayn malik - Fandom, ziam - Fandom
Genre: Actor Harry, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, College, Frat Boy Liam, Frat Boy Niall, M/M, Musician Louis, Musician Zayn, Oral Sex, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endoftheziam/pseuds/endoftheziam
Summary: "Are we breaking up?"Those heart-wrenching words begin a phone call between Liam and Zayn, where it seems like everything's falling apart. It's the end of the year, and Liam and Zayn have been together since July. Even after everything they've been through, can they make it to the New Year? Can they figure out how it fell apart, in order to put it back together?Is this really the end?





	1. July

Chapter One  
December 25, 11:50 PM  
“Are we breaking up?” Zayn’s voice was stretched so thin, and Liam could feel his heart stretched with it. A tightrope they’d been walking back and forth, pretending that solid ground was on either side, knowing that a cataclysmic drop awaited them. Waiting and wishing and hoping.   
Of course it was now. Of course it was all crumbling down.   
Liam held the note in his hand, the imprint of lipstick stark and alluring, a shade of purple that matched lips that had met his, quieting the guilt rising in his stomach.   
“Zayn,” Liam said softly, as a tear splashed onto the note, smearing the ink, which was lousy with wide, looping letters and exclamation points.   
Had a good time.   
Liam crumpled the note in his fist, listening for the voice on the other end, the one that recalled him to life, the one that had stopped him out of a crowd, the one voice that seemed to quiet all the static in his head…  
He could hear Zayn breathing, soft and shallow, and he wondered if Zayn was crying. If there were tears that dripped from the end of his angular nose. If his eyes were red from more than the smoke this time. If his hand shook as it held the phone to his ear.   
“I know you don’t believe in second chances,” Liam said quietly.   
Zayn sighed, and Liam felt the beginning of the blow, poking into his chest. “How could you do this? After everything?”  
After everything.   
Liam knew he was right. And he knew it was almost over. Their relationship had begun like a dream, stretching endlessly into the infinity of forever, a wide array of possibilities opening before them like a well-embroidered tapestry.   
Then it had shrunk, to a distant horizon. A sheer cliff. A blank stretch of wall, looming ever closer.   
And then it had unraveled, the threads that had seemed so interminable twining loosely around one another, until they were barely held together at all. Until they were falling apart.   
And then…  
Today…  
“What happened to us?” Liam whispered.  
There was a beep, then silence.   
It had all crumbled to pieces. 

 

June

Zayn hadn’t wanted to go to this bar. It was a hole in the wall, literally. A crumpled-out piece of property on the ugly side of Sixth Street, so derelict and broken down that even the drunken college students, who could hardly tell a bathroom from a street corner, had steered clear. 

But Zayn was trying to be social. Trying to feel a little better about being in the city, alone, over the summer. Trying to find something to fill the hours before he’d go back to his boring temp job doing data entry for Pears Unlimited.   
So he’d come out here, where some of the other interns were hanging out. Harry, the head intern, had practically dragged him, ignoring his protests that he didn’t feel like going out, that he was tired, that he didn’t even drink, anyway, so the whole thing was ridiculous…  
Harry was good at persuading people.   
It helped that Harry was one of the most beautiful people Zayn had ever seen. With his wide green eyes, curved lips, and fall of dark hair, Zayn could still barely speak in his presence. The only reason he could was that Harry was so clearly smitten with Louis Tomlinson, the singer they’d come out to see tonight.   
Harry was swaying by the stage, eyes closed, listening to the soft, high voice of his boyfriend croon words of hope and longing.   
Zayn liked that Harry had a boyfriend. It kept him at a safe distance. It meant that Zayn couldn’t mess anything up.   
But he still wanted to go home. His club soda had gone flat and warm, and he was tired of rejecting the tireless advances of Stephanie, a freshman who still hadn’t figured out that he was gay. She kept offering drinks, begging him to dance, leaning forward in front of him with her top positioned strategically to show her cleavage.   
Zayn rolled his eyes as she reached up to stretch again, looking around at the crowd. If he could find a quick, clear path, he’d be out before anyone knew he’d gone.   
He could be in his apartment, alone in his bed, watching Daredevil without any interruptions.   
Zayn opened his mouth for an excuse, ready to make a break for it, when someone smashed into his chair, nearly knocking him over.   
“M’sorry,” said a slurred voice, just as a mass of Old Spice-scented warmth collided with Zayn’s shoulder. “Didn’t see you there.”  
Zayn shoved the person off of him and opened his mouth to retort, furious, then stopped midsentence when he got a better look at the guy’s face. “Niall? Niall Horan?”   
The boy, a man now, Zayn realized, with a coloring of reddish-blonde stubble on his jaw, peered through hazy blue eyes at Zayn. “Zayn? Is it really you? Or m’I just too trashed t’—”  
Zayn smiled. “How have you been?”  
Niall shrugged. “Same old, same old. Still got one year left before I get my degree. Look” He showed Zayn the ring on his finger. “’M a real senior now, I swear!”  
Zayn laughed. He and Niall had been roommates freshman year, and he’d sworn that Niall would never see the light of the graduation stage if he kept partying. Niall spent more time recovering from hangovers and crashing the latest frat parties than he did in class, and Zayn never saw him study.  
But somehow, Niall seemed to have pulled through. “Looks like we’re walking the stage together, then.” Zayn said. “You’re gonna be too drunk to make it across.”  
Niall straightened immediately. “’M not that drunk!” he protested. “Smashed into you ‘cause one of the guys told me to get you away from Stephanie. Didn’t realize it was you; of course. I could’ve told him he had nothing to worry about.”   
He leaned in past Zayn’s ear, where Stephanie still hovered, waiting hopefully with her cleavage still perfectly positioned. “Miss,” Niall said politely, all trace of the drunken slur temporarily suspended. “I hate to break it to you, but Zayn here is gayer than Freddie Mercury and Elton John put together.” He eyed her breasts openly. “I, on the other hand—”   
But Stephanie had already turned and stalked away in a huff.   
Niall didn’t seem fazed.   
“Happens.” He said. “I was freeing her up for one of the guys from Delta Zig anyway. Look” he nodded over Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn finally turned around to see a boy in a pink tank top and khaki shorts chatting animatedly to Stephanie, who gave a hesitant laugh.   
He wore a red hat lopsided on top of his head, a fringe of hair peeking out. He crossed his arms, and Zayn nearly gasped aloud at them. They were huge, stacked with muscle.   
Zayn had always had a thing for biceps.  
“Classic Liam,” Niall said. “Always gotta be the first to check out the new ones.”  
“Liam.” Zayn said. He liked that name. “One of your frat brothers?”  
“Frat president.” Niall corrected.  
He had very nice arms, Zayn realized. The kind of arms that came only with hard work, with a lot of push-ups in the gym.   
Zayn was too busy picturing Liam, shirtless but still wearing the red hat, doing push-ups, to realize that Niall was still talking.  
“Switched to mechanical engineering,” Niall was saying. “Bio just didn’t really do it for me after the first year.”  
“Mmhmm.” Zayn said, just as Liam looked up from where he’d been eyeing Stephanie’s cleavage and locked eyes with Zayn.   
Zayn felt an electric shock go through his body as the other boy’s eyes widened, adjusting his tank top in a gesture that would have seemed nervous, if it had been done by somebody other than a fraternity president.  
“Liam…Is he…?”  
Niall stopped his monologue to glance over at Liam. “Not that I know of,” Niall said slowly, “But he could be.”  
But as they watched, Liam’s eyes fixed on Stephanie again. His hands stroked down one of her arms, and the gesture made Zayn inexplicably angry. “Guess not.” Zayn muttered, his eyes still fixed on Liam and Stephanie.   
“O—kay.” Niall said. “Zayn? Earth to Zayn?”  
With a supreme amount of effort, Zayn turned away from Liam. He could still feel his presence, a pulsing heat at the edge of his awareness.   
“What?” Zayn said peevishly.   
“I have a couple guys I can set you up with, if you’re—”  
“No. I hate blind dates.”  
Niall rolled his eyes. “They’re here right now. It’s just a drink.”  
“I still don’t want to—”  
“Please.” Niall put a hand on his shoulder. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”  
“Nick. Sophomore year.”  
“Nick?”  
“You met him in microbiology? He tried to sleep with me while he was engaged. To a woman.”   
“Oh yeah.” Niall’s face brightened at the memory. “That was a wedding to remember. So many depressed bridesmaids. So little time.”  
“I’m just gonna go home.” Zayn said. “But enjoy your night.” He stood up, turned toward the dance floor and the exit on the other side, and walked into a muscled, pink chest.   
Attached to the most wonderful arms. With shoulders that were so broad, Zayn wasn’t sure how he’d hold onto them.   
He certainly wanted to try.  
“Going somewhere?” Liam’s voice was smooth, and Zayn’s knees almost buckled right there.  
***  
I am not gay. I am not gay. I like girls. I am not gay.   
Stephanie was a freshman, and fresh meat. If she was new, it meant that none of the other guys had gotten to her yet.   
That was the problem with being in a frat. People tended to lump you in with the others.  
Seen one Delta Zig dick, you’ve seen ‘em all.   
It didn’t help that Liam wasn’t attracted to half the coeds who came his way. With their fake blonde extensions, toned stomachs, and minty breath, they always looked like variations of the Barbies his sisters had played with.   
He knew that he could get any one of them he wanted, so long as he pulled rank as frat president. His heart just wasn’t in it.  
The last girl he’d really liked had been Veronica, back during freshman year. She had naturally blonde hair, and she didn’t drink unless it was just to be social, and she was on scholarship, so she didn’t care how much money he could spend on her.  
She’d dumped him after she’d caught him making out with a girl from Gamma Phi. He’d fucked tons of chicks since then, but no one really stood out to him. It was perfunctory, bland. All the same in the dark.  
Liam was president, and he was a Delta Zig, and he did what was expected of him.  
And lately, Liam was starting to notice people at parties…He was starting to flirt and enjoy himself again.   
It was just that he tended to want to flirt with the wrong people.  
Like the boy across the room, the one Niall was talking to. He wore skinny jeans, impossible in the heat, and his thick, dark hair spilled into his eyes. He had tattoos on his hands and arms, and thin, narrow shoulders beneath his tank top.   
Angel shoulders.   
I am not gay. Liam thought, as the boy licked his lips and took a drag from his cigarette. Not. Gay.   
“So, what are you taking this fall?” Stephanie was still talking, and Liam answered automatically, listing his classes even as he felt the boy’s gaze on him.   
Warmth spread through his stomach, and his hands shook.   
And finally, Liam couldn’t take it anymore.  
He looked at the boy.  
And nearly spilled his drink.   
The boy’s eyes were a deep brown, golden along the edges. Framed by impossibly long lashes, accompanied by thin, curving lips that Liam could almost taste.   
Shit.   
Liam tore his gaze away and focused on Stephanie, who was looking up at him with a frown. He ran a hand down her arm, trying to soothe her attention back to him, but it was too late. Focusing over his shoulder, Stephanie said, “Sorry, I see a guy from my dorm—” and darted off, taking a swig of her drink as she went.   
And Liam didn’t mean to walk over. Didn’t meant to stand right in front of the boy’s table.   
He certainly didn’t mean for his voice to deepen as the boy ran into him, and say, “Where do you think you’re going?”  
I’m not gay I’m not gay I’m not gay  
The boy’s eyes flicked up into his, and Liam felt the jolt radiate from his chest outward. “Depends. Are you coming with me?”  
Liam hesitated, his dick half-hard, knowing that he was a few feet from the others. That they might be able to see him, and the look on his face, and this boy…  
The boy seemed to read his expression. “Just say you’re taking me home. I’m too drunk and I have work tomorrow.”  
Liam nodded, then stepped forward, letting the boy sling his arm around Liam’s shoulder, like he truly couldn’t hold up his own weight.   
They staggered out of the bar, and Liam maintained the charade, helping the boy into his sleek Range Rover and pulling carefully out of the parking lot.   
“I’m Liam by the way.” Liam said, gripping the steering wheel in hopes that it would conceal his shaking hands.  
“Zayn, and I know.” Zayn put his feet up on the dash, and something about the way he did it, so comfortably, made Liam hope he never stopped. “Niall’s told me about you. He said he didn’t think you were—”  
“I’m not—” Liam said quickly, stopping at a streetlight. “I mean, I like—but they don’t—”  
“Hey.” Zayn’s hand went to his wrist, which still clutched the gearshift. “It’s fine. You’re just taking me home. I won’t tell anyone.”  
Liam nodded. “I want to—but—”  
“Let’s just start with where I live.” Zayn said, his hand drawing slow circles on Liam’s wrist joint, tracing underneath to where his veins pulsed at the surface of his skin.   
“Okay,” Liam said slowly, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the tightness in his pants out of his mind. “Where d’you live?”  
“Up on Riverside. Don’t worry, Harry’s my roommate, and he’ll be gone for a while.” Zayn’s hand came forward to rest upon Liam’s knee, and Liam felt like all of his nerves were zinging to that point. Every time Zayn moved, even just a little, Liam gulped. He felt like he was going to explode.   
“Um…” Liam thought he should probably try again, since by the way he was feeling now, he wasn’t sure he’d leave this car without coming. “I’ve never. I’m not—” Liam moved his leg, and Zayn, recognizing the signal, shifted his hand away.   
“You’ve never been with a guy before, have you?”  
Liam shook his head as they turned into his driveway. “I—uh—I don’t know if I’m—”  
“Let’s just get to know each other, then.” Zayn said. “I promise, if you’re not comfortable, you can leave. It’s right here,” he added, and Liam turned into a driveway that housed a small, brick house with vines growing on the corners.  
“Cute.”  
“Yeah. Harry’s dad pays for it.” Zayn said. “Do you want to come in?”  
Liam put the car in park and turned off the engine. Then he turned to look at Zayn. He could smell him in the dark, hints of weed and cologne. He could see his porch light reflecting off Zayn’s eyelashes.   
And he knew that the right thing to do was to drive away. Give a polite ‘No, thank you’ go back to his frat house, and hook up with one of the dozens of numbers he had stored in his phone.   
“Yes.” Liam said.   
Zayn grinned, and Liam knew he was done for.   
***  
Zayn handed Liam a glass of water and sat next to him on the couch, keeping a careful inch of space between them.   
If this had been someone else, they’d already be fucking, but Zayn wanted Liam to feel comfortable. More than anything, he wanted to just keep talking to Liam. Keep Liam near him, because it was making Zayn’s heart feel calm and erratic all at once.   
“So. Where are you from?” Zayn asked.   
“Montana.” Liam said. “My dad owns a ranch out there.”  
“And am I the first guy you’ve ever liked?”  
Liam blushed and shook his head, his eyes crinkling with the admission.  
Zayn wasn’t sure if he was pushing with the next question, but he decided to try anyway:  
“Will I be the first guy you kiss?”  
Liam nodded, looking down at his knees.  
“So you want to kiss me?”  
Liam nodded again, still looking down, his eyelashes shadowing his skin.   
“Liam.” Zayn breathed. “Look at me.”   
Slowly, Liam dragged his eyes up to Zayn. Zayn nearly dove for him right there; his body practically trembled with restraint.   
With his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright, and his lips red and puffy, all Zayn wanted was to lean in. To kiss and suck and bite, and take.   
“I want you.” Zayn said softly. “And I swear I won’t tell anyone. I swear that this will be a one-time thing, and if you don’t want to do anything, then—”  
“That’s not it.” Liam said.   
“I just mean—” Zayn said, worried he’d freaked Liam out.  
“I’m afraid.”  
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—here—” Zayn made to get up, but Liam’s hand shot out, curling around his bicep.  
Liam had such huge, strong hands. Good hands.  
“I’m afraid I’m never going to want to stop.” Liam whispered, squeezing Zayn’s arm.  
And if Zayn didn’t have a boner before, he definitely had one now.  
But Zayn forced himself to remain rational. To keep his breath even, as he said. “I can leave if you—”  
But he didn’t finish, because Liam leaned forward, and Zayn’s body took over, and they were kissing.   
Liam’s lips were full and puffy, and. Zayn instantly submitted, falling back on the couch with Liam on top of him, his enormous bulge rubbing against Zayn’s.   
“Fuck.” Zayn moaned as Liam’s lips moved from his mouth to his jawline, sucking on the edge of his chin and moving down to his neck.   
Liam kept kissing Zayn’s neck, his hands busy at Zayn’s shirt, pulling it up and exploring underneath, tracing the lines of Zayn’s ribs.   
Numbly, Zayn pulled on Liam’s tank top until the other boy stopped his assault long enough to take it off.   
“Liam—” Zayn whispered.  
“Zayn—I want to—”  
“Yes.” Zayn said. “Whatever you want. Just—Fuck.” Zayn had never felt anything like this, this fire erupting on his skin. Liam tugged at his shirt, and Zayn raised his arms obediently, letting Liam remove it.   
As soon as the shirt was gone, Zayn’s mouth crashed into Liam’s again, Liam’s tongue flicking into Zayn’s mouth and licking at the back of his throat.   
Zayn felt like he was dying. He felt like he was on fire. He felt like his body wanted to fuse with Liam’s, melt into him until it was impossible to separate them. He could feel Liam’s heart pounding beside his own.   
Zayn could barely breathe, and they kept kissing as though they would devour each other, and Zayn was whimpering now, begging Liam to take, take. Please.  
And Liam seemed to know exactly what Zayn meant as he clambered off of him, climbing drunkenly to his feet and offering a hand.   
Zayn looked down at the enormous bulge in Liam’s khakis, a wet stain already forming, and he wanted to drop to his knees and suck him off right there, make Liam scream his name right in his living room, but Liam was already pulling him backwards, throwing him against the wall and pinning him down with his arms.  
“Bedroom?” Liam asked.  
“Yes—Right—”  
“Show me.”   
And somehow, Zayn darted from beneath Liam’s arms and sprinted to the bedroom, feeling Liam hot on his heels.  
“You don’t seem like you—don’t know what you’re doing?” Zayn gasped, as Liam caught up with him and pulled him into his chest, rubbing his crotch against Zayn’s ass.   
“Seen a lot of porn, when the others were asleep.” Liam said.  
“So—what do you—want?”  
“What do you want?”  
Zayn whimpered at the dominance in Liam’s voice, forgetting entirely that Liam was inexperienced, that Zayn had offered to take control.  
He forgot everything except Liam’s dick rutting against his ass, and Liam’s hot breath in his ear.   
“I—want—”  
“I’m gonna let you ride me.” Liam said. “Let you do all the work, babe, show me what to do—”  
“Yes--Sir.” Zayn said, and Liam stilled against him.  
“What the fuck did you just call me?”  
“I—if you don’t want—”  
“That’s all you will call me from now on.” Liam growled, and Zayn felt a chill go down his spine. He’d never been more turned on in his life.   
Liam spun Zayn around and tangled one hand in his hair while the other moved to Zayn’s front and stroked along his dick. “Take off your pants.”  
“Yes, sir.” Zayn pulled down his skinny jeans, watching Liam lick his lips at the sight, his expression go dark.   
“Your turn,” Zayn said softly, and Liam nodded before pulling off his khakis and tank top, his red cap falling off with it.   
The two lovers stood in front of each other, chests heaving.  
For a moment, Liam’s eyes lost their dark luster, and the wonder on Liam’s face was genuine as he beheld Zayn. “You’re. beautiful.” He whispered.   
Zayn couldn’t wait any longer. He went in for a kiss, his hand busying at Liam’s belt. They both pulled Liam’s boxers down, letting his cock spring free and rest against his stomach.   
Zayn reached between them for it and ran his hand along the shaft, licking his lips, but Liam’s hand grabbed his wrist.   
“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said. “Now get on the bed. Facedown.”  
“Yes, sir.” Zayn whimpered, shivering as Liam’s hand grazed down his spine.  
“You want me?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“What do you want?”  
“Your fingers…please.”  
Liam rummaged in his bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube, Zayn quivering beneath him.   
Next thing Zayn knew, one of Liam’s slick fingers had brushed against Zayn’s hole, sliding in as Zayn nearly fainted from pleasure.   
“That feel good, baby? You want more?”  
Zayn bit his lip. “Yes. More. Please.”  
A second finger slid in, and this time Liam hit Zayn’s prostate.   
Zayn jolted on the bed, muffling a curse as Liam scissored his fingers, stretching Zayn out.   
“Mmmm..fuck. Feels so good.”  
Liam added another finger and leaned in to whisper in Zayn’s ear. “Getting you ready for my cock, baby. You ready to have my cock fill you up?”  
Zayn nodded. “Please, sir. I’m ready. Please. I’m gonna—”  
“You will not cum until I tell you.” Liam said harshly. “Now get up so you can ride me.”  
His fingers disappeared from inside Zayn, and Zayn moaned as he felt his orgasm slipping away. He climbed off the bed, trembling, as Liam laid himself on his back, gazing upwards at Zayn.   
“Come on…I’ve never done this before. So show me how it’s done, sweetheart. Ride me.” Liam’s voice was deep and sultry, thick with desire.  
Zayn gulped and clambered onto Liam, straddling him and brushing his lips against his. Then he grabbed Liam’s dick and maneuvered it so it was just brushing his hole.   
He moaned at the contact, his eyes rolling back in his head.  
“Come on, sweetheart. Fuck me.”  
At those words, Zayn summoned his courage and sank down onto Liam’s dick, his walls stretching painfully.   
“You’re—so—big.” Zayn whispered. “The biggest I’ve ever—” He sank down further, until he was on top of Liam’s balls, and then he stilled.  
A hand brushed Zayn’s cheek, catching a tear that lingered there. “Am I hurting you?”   
And Liam’s voice was soft and hesitant again, the sudden switch making something in Zayn’s chest seize painfully.   
Zayn’s eyes snapped open to look into Liam’s and a surge of heat went through him again. Still keeping eye contact, Zayn started to move up and down on Liam’s dick.  
Liam gasped, moaning Zayn’s name as they continued.   
Zayn could feel Liam’s tip brushing his prostate, and he whimpered as he moved up and down, Liam thrusting upward in time with him.  
“Fuck.” Liam whispered. “Didn’t know it could feel this—”   
They both had their heads thrown back, Zayn writhing and twisting, Liam with his eyes closed, powerful thighs thrusting upward, moaning.  
Zayn could feel his vision going fuzzy at the edges, tears coming to his eyes again. “Mmm close.”  
“Me too.” Liam said, his voice shaking, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier until he stilled, and Zayn was still bouncing on Liam’s dick as his hot cum poured into him, the sensation pushing Zayn over the edge until his hands gripped Liam’s chest for dear life, his fingernails making marks as his cum shot onto Liam’s stomach, leaving a sticky mess.   
Zayn kept bouncing until his orgasm ended and Liam began to soften inside him. Then, ever so tenderly, he climbed off of Liam, feeling his cum pouring out of his asshole.  
“Fuck.” Liam said. “That was—”   
Zayn reached into his bedside table and grabbed a couple of baby wipes, using them to clean up the mess. Then he collapsed next to Liam, his chest heaving.   
Zayn could barely keep his eyes open, “Y—yes.” Zayn said, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder. “I—” Liam began, but he couldn’t finish. Zayn watched his eyelashes flutter. “S’okay.” Zayn said, snuggling into his neck. “Go to sleep.”  
And without another word, both boys drifted into the glorious unconsciousness of the truly exhausted.


	2. Voicemail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn leaves Liam a voicemail, and Liam and Zayn think about when Zayn got a record deal, and everything changed.

Chapter 2:  
December 28  
This time of year, Zayn should be surrounded by snow, bundling up against the cold.  
Instead, he stared out the window of the conference room at the collection of palm trees, gently waving in the sea breeze.  
LA had always been beautiful, its weather perfect at all times, its people tanned and supple and strong. The air even smelled like flowers, for God’s sake. No wonder all the movie stars and celebrities lived here.  
Zayn had wanted to live here, too. The first time he’d been out to LA, he’d nearly fallen over with how wonderful the place felt, how right.  
But now, Zayn hated the constant sunshine. The irritating breeze. The way that everyone always looked so perfect, all the time.  
Zayn couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed a place with hot chocolate, and warm blankets. A place where a storm swirled just outside.  
Where Liam would be waiting for him to come home.  
“So what we’ll do first is have you make a few appearances, mainly talk shows and a few radios. Then we’ll have you do a small tour across Europe, fly back for the summer tour in America. Of course, you’ll only be at the smaller venues, but that’s expected—”  
Zayn let his manager’s voice drone into the background, along with the latest assembled team of lawyers. He knew he should care more than this that the entire year was being decided for him, but what was he supposed to do? Insist on longer breaks so he could see Liam? Tell them to put his career on hold, lose his momentum, for his college boyfriend?  
Zayn was on his way to getting three straight number one’s off his first album. He couldn’t change anything if he wanted his dream to live. He couldn’t do anything but be here—  
His phone buzzed, and Zayn pulled it out, his heart leaping when he saw Liam’s name across the screen.  
But it wasn’t a text. It was a notification from his Snapchat. Liam had posted a new story.  
His stomach lurching, Zayn clicked through the story. Liam chugging a beer and then dashing off after Niall. Liam, Niall, and Harry yelling obscenities at Louis as he performed. Liam and a beautiful, dark-haired girl, who was kissing him on the cheek. Liam’s face, covered in lipstick stains.  
“Zayn? Zayn? Are you even listening to us?”  
But Zayn ignored them, dashing into the hallway.  
He dialed Liam’s phone number before he could talk himself out of it.  
“Hey, it’s Liam. Leave a message.”  
“I don’t know if you’re getting this, but I’m not ready to give up on us yet. I don’t know—they’re talking about a world tour…” Zayn paused, trying to control his breathing. “None of this matters if it’s not with you, Liam. Please call me back.”

August  
The annual Delta Zig Summer Bash was coming up, and Liam still hadn’t invited Zayn.  
He was pretty sure Zayn thought he was already going, but there was a tiny problem with that. A slight hiccup.  
Everybody in Delta Zig kind of thought that Liam was straight.  
And Liam wanted to keep it that way.  
Zayn knew that Liam wasn’t comfortable. Knew that Liam didn’t like holding hands in public, or standing too close together, or even exchanging kisses. But he probably thought Liam wasn’t into PDA. He probably thought Liam was shy.  
Liam wasn’t shy. He wanted holding hands. He wanted to sit so close to Zayn, they’d be impossible to untangle. He wanted to skip through the streets and tell everyone who asked that Zayn was his boyfriend.  
Every time Zayn walked into a room, he took all the air out of it. Liam could barely breathe when he was around, and when Zayn looked at him the way he did, Liam felt like all the air rushed back into his chest all at once.  
Zayn had been singing to him lately, just silly Justin Bieber covers, and every time Liam felt like crying, it was so sweet. So warm.  
Zayn made Liam feel safe.  
Liam was pretty sure that Zayn was smitten, too. That they were both goners.  
Which made what Liam was doing even worse, if you thought about it.

***

Zayn had asked a few days ago about the party again, and Liam felt worse every time he put off answering. He could tell Zayn wasn’t buying it.  
“You don’t want me to meet your friends?” Zayn asked, his voice light and mocking.  
They were in Liam’s bed, sweaty and exhausted.  
Liam had become obsessed with touching Zayn. Smelling him, stroking him.  
They barely slept in the last few days, arriving at each of their jobs late, burned out, distracted.  
Liam’s lips were puffy and sore, and he hadn’t paid attention to a single fundraiser idea in two weeks. But he couldn’t stop.  
Even now, he rolled on top of Zayn, pinning him down on the mattress. He kissed him on the corner of his mouth, his teeth grazing Zayn’s lips.  
“I like you here,” Liam said, “Where I can get at you.”  
“Don’t know how it took us—” Zayn gasped as Liam’s mouth moved lower, kissing down his chest, down his stomach. “So long to get here. So long for us to meet. I—"  
“Shhh…” Liam said as he wrapped his mouth around Zayn’s dick. He hummed, and Zayn’s hips bucked up, making him brush the back of Liam throat.  
“Liam—”  
Liam hummed around him again, and Zayn stopped asking questions.  
But the issue didn’t go away. Liam knew Zayn wanted more. Knew he was tired of being patient.

***  
Zayn finished his set, searching the crowd desperately for a familiar broad-shouldered figure in the front row.  
But Liam was nowhere to be found.  
Zayn took a bow, sweat dripping off his forehead, then hopped off the stage, checking the phone that was stashed at the bottom of it.  
Can’t make it tonight. Delta meeting. Sorry!  
It made sense, Zayn knew. He knew Liam would be here if he could. Knew that Zayn couldn’t be the only priority in Liam’s life.  
It was just that lately, it seemed like Liam was pulling back. Blowing him off more than usual. Leaving early when they had plans. They’d been going out for a month or so—was Liam bored? Was he seeing someone else?  
Someone clapped Zayn on the back, and he smelled the familiar spicy cologne of Louis before being enveloped in a hug. “Amazing, dude. Amazing.”  
Zayn nodded, still looking at his phone, as Louis went on, “I have someone I want you to meet.”  
“Mr. Malik, it’s such an honor to finally hear your work.”  
“Oh thanks,” Zayn said, finally looking up at a tall, thin man in a three-piece suit. “You, uh—” the man really was tall; Zayn was having to crane his neck to look up at him. “—Watch me on YouTube?”  
The man grinned, holding out his hand. “Alasdair Archman, of Sony Records. Why don’t we go somewhere we can talk?” He handed Zayn a business card.  
Zayn brought it to his eyes, barely able to believe what he was seeing.  
***

It was 4am. Zayn still wasn’t home yet.  
Liam checked his phone again, but Zayn hadn’t answered any of his frantic text messages, growing ever more frequent with the lateness of the hour.  
Zayn was supposed to finish his set at ten, and then he’d meet Liam back here.  
Liam had even ducked out of his meeting early, adjourning it before Niall had a chance to bring up his wet t shirt contest idea. Again.  
But Zayn wasn’t here.  
Liam was starting to really worry. His mind whirled through scenarios, all of them involving Zayn, hurt. Zayn, injured or drugged or kidnapped.  
Zayn, needing him.  
Liam dug his hands into his eyes. He was being ridiculous. Zayn was fine. Maybe he’d lost track of time catching up with the band after the show. Maybe he’d gone over to Louis’ apartment and fallen asleep on his couch.  
Maybe he’d finally hooked up with someone who wasn’t afraid to hold his hand in public.  
Liam grabbed his phone, staring at the screen. Louis would know where Zayn was—Zayn never went to a show if Louis wasn’t in the audience. Louis was his good luck charm.  
Liam was about to dial Louis’ number when the handle to the door turned, and a familiar figure stumbled into the kitchen, clutching onto the wall for support.  
“Mmmm—” Zayn giggled, nearly tripping before catching himself on the edge of the refrigerator. Zayn clutched it, still swaying, muttering to himself.  
Liam leapt to his feet, moving around the refrigerator just in time to catch Zayn as he finally stumbled and nearly fell.  
“Li—” Zayn asked groggily. “That you?”  
“Yes.” Liam’s voice was short and clipped, and he couldn’t understand why. He was used to seeing guys this drunk before; he was this drunk nearly once a month himself.  
Why was Zayn being drunk bothering him so much?  
He’d never seen Zayn like this. He’d thought Zayn didn’t drink at all.  
“Liam,” Zayn said softly, tracing his hand over the line of stubble on Liam’s jaw. “You’re so pretty. I like you so much here.” A sloppy, alcohol-soaked lick to Liam’s jaw. Liam felt his knees go to jelly, but refused to acknowledge it. Zayn was way too drunk to have sex right now.  
“Let’s get you to bed,” Liam said, trying to ignore the tightness in his stomach as Zayn’s nose moved to the hollow of his neck, his teeth reaching out to nibble there.  
“’m yes.” Zayn said. “Wanna teach you to ride me. Wanna fucking—fuck—” Zayn took a sharp breath, and Liam ducked from beneath his arm just in time for Zayn to lean over the sink and vomit a great deal of foul-smelling, green fluid.  
“What the Hell did you drink?” Liam asked, as Zayn continued coughing and retching, moaning in pain.  
Zayn just shook his head, then shoved past Liam toward the bedroom.  
Liam followed him just in time to see Zayn drop to his knees beside the toilet, emptying more of his stomach’s contents into the basin.  
Liam grabbed a hand towel then wetted it, then sat down beside Zayn on the cold tile floor.  
As Zayn finished vomiting, Liam pulled at his chin until Zayn was facing him, then dabbed gently at his face, his sweaty forehead, the drool at the corners of his mouth.  
“’Ve got a record deal,” Zayn muttered, leaning his cheek into Liam’s hand. “Sony records. Aladdin.”  
“Aladdin?” Liam snorted. “Right.”  
“Love you,” Zayn said. “Loved you, the song. Song I wrote about you.”  
“You wrote a song about me?”  
Zayn’s eyes widened and he shook his head, wincing at the pain it must have caused him. “Didn’t.” He said, then pulled his shirt over his head. Zayn stumbled to his feet and pulled off his pants, nearly tripping until he fell into his bathtub.  
“Zayn, sweetheart.” Liam couldn’t help but find his clumsiness endearing. It was like watching Bambi take his first steps. Zayn looked so pitiful and helpless.  
“Shower. Meeting with—Aladdair—”  
“Right.” Liam said, reaching for Zayn’s boxers.  
“Hey!” Zayn muttered. “Don’t go getting any ideas. Just because you’re fucking hot and I want to fuck you doesn’t mean I want to make you fucking a fuck—fuck—” his head lolled, and Liam pulled off his boxers and turned on the water, wincing as Zayn shrieked at the cold.  
“What’re you—”  
“Shh.” Liam soaped up a rag and sponged off Zayn’s shoulders and neck, working some of the soap into his hair to hopefully wash out the bar smell. He scrubbed him everywhere, turning red as he got to Zayn’s private areas.  
He hadn’t ever bathed someone else before. It was very intimate, in a different way than sex.  
With sex, it was all about making himself feel good, making Zayn feel good.  
But bathing Zayn, especially when he was like this—  
It was like making a sculpture, or a piece of art. Peeling away all the grime from the bar and the day, so that he could really see Zayn. See him in a place probably no one had since he’d been a baby.  
See him for who he really was.  
Liam’s washcloth went over a kiss-shaped birthmark on Zayn’s thigh, one he’d never noticed before. He found himself marveling at the way the soapy water slid over Zayn’s skin, the smooth rhythm lulling him into the task.  
Zayn seemed to like it too; he was lolling his head against the side of the tub, his eyelids fluttering open and closed with every few strokes. “Want you, Liam,” Zayn muttered. “So much.”  
Liam detached the shower head so that he could rinse Zayn off. “You can have me. Tomorrow. As many times as you want.”  
“Not what I mean,” Zayn muttered, closing his eyes obediently as Liam rinsed his face, and getting to his feet as Liam offered him a towel.  
It wasn’t until Zayn was clad in a fresh pair of boxers and beneath the covers of his bed that he elaborated, his hair tickling Liam’s face as Liam spooned him.  
“Want you out in the open,” Zayn said. “Want you to hold my hand and kiss me when I have a gig. Want you next to me—” Zayn muttered a few more indistinct things, something about Sony and Aladdin (Aladdair? Alasdair?) again, then fell deeply asleep, the even melody of his breath doing nothing to soothe the conflict his words had left in Liam’s brain.  
Want you out in the open.  
Liam had always guessed Zayn had felt that way about their relationship, but Zayn had been so understanding. So willing to let Liam move at his own pace.  
But it wasn’t what Zayn wanted. Zayn wanted it all. He wanted Instagram photos and kisses when they saw each other in public.  
Liam’s stomach twisted at the thought, anxiety clawing at his insides.  
He just didn’t want everything to change. Didn’t want to have to reexplain himself to the world again. Reintroduce himself to everyone.  
Risk the reactions that would pour in, the ones he’d heard about. You’re just going through a phase. Are you sure you’re not gay? Did I turn you gay, was it that bad?  
Before he could think about it more, the phone rang.  
Liam disentangled himself from Zayn and stumbled into the kitchen, where his phone still rested on the counter.  
“Louis, hey.”  
“He get home okay?”  
“Yeah—what the Hell did you give him? Zayn never drinks.”  
“He went out with an executive at Sony. They’re meeting tomorrow morning at 10 to sign him.”  
“Wait?” Liam gripped the counter for support. “That was real? Zayn got signed?”  
“Yes,” Louis sounded irritated now. “So make sure he’s up, and sober, and at the Downtown Media Offices by 10 tomorrow.”  
“Got it.” Liam said. “Thanks.”  
“I always knew he would make it,” Louis said, and Liam could hear the pride in his voice. “Now go take care of him, so I can get some sleep.”  
“Okay, thanks Louis.” Liam hung up.  
Then he stared at his phone, bewildered. Everything had changed in one night. With one phone call.  
Zayn was getting a record deal.  
Liam walked back into the bedroom and looked at Zayn’s sleeping form, noticing how the small shaft of light from the bathroom highlighted a sliver of Zayn’s face.  
I want you out in the open.  
His stomach twisted. He was so beautiful. It was so ridiculous that Zayn had fallen for him.  
And Liam knew that if he didn’t make it official, if he didn’t step up, he’d lose Zayn forever.  
His phone’s wallpaper was a photo with the guys of Delta Zig. The guys who, in spite of their push toward inclusivity, had never had a gay member in all their time.  
Much less a bisexual president.  
Liam sighed, running his hand through his hair. He opened his Notes section and started to type, then deleted the whole paragraph. Then started over. Then deleted.  
Liam moved to his photos, to the last one of him and Zayn. Their faces so close together, they were almost kissing. Their eyes shining, lips curled in identical smiles.  
What if this was all they would ever be?  
Liam wanted so much more.  
He wanted everything.


	3. "I Won't Mind"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam listens to Zayn's voicemail, and he remembers the first time Zayn showed him "I Won't Mind."  
> Includes the lyrics to "I Won't Mind."

Dec 29 4:00 AM  
It was only in the settling debris of the most recent party that Liam bothered to check his messages.   
He was just starting to sober up again, even after determinedly downing enough beer to make his head spin, following it with a shot or two of whatever was being passed around at that moment.   
Everyone was pretty much asleep, and the entire house was silent, save for the quiet sobbing from an extremely drunk sorority girl and the loud snores from Niall’s bedroom. Liam crept out onto the balcony when he saw that he had a voicemail from Zayn, tiptoeing around a few passed out freshmen until he emerged into the air.   
Shivering, Liam pressed play on the voice message. When Zayn’s voice came on, shaky and scared and out of breath, “I don’t know if you’re getting this,” Liam’s chest tightened. By the time he got to the end, Liam was holding back sobs. The kind of gut wrenching, wracking sobs that contorted his entire face and bowed his body in half.   
"I don’t deserve you," Liam thought. "I don’t deserve any of this."  
He bit his lip, trying to keep himself from falling apart.   
Just then, the door to the balcony slid open. 

“Jesus-fuck. It’s cold.”   
“Go away.” Liam growled.   
“Cute. But that doesn’t work on me,” Louis slid the door closed behind him, marching down in front of Liam and pulling out a cigarette.   
“You smoke? Since when?”  
“Since about two gigs ago,” Louis took a drag, blowing the smoke out into the air. “It makes me sound dangerous.” He winked.  
“Won’t Harry be wondering where you are?”  
Louis rolled his eyes. “He can get by without me. This is the quietest it’s been in our room all night. Boy snores like a lawnmower.”  
Liam tried to laugh, but a sob came out.  
“Okay,” Louis brushed his hair out of his eyes, and sat down on the balcony, dangling his feet between the bars. “I’m not a hugger, so I’m gonna do this the hard way. What the Hell are you doing?” 

Liam looked down at the ground below them, the gleam over his Land Rover in the moonlight. His mind flashed back to driving in that car with Zayn. The way he’d felt, like   
everything was changing. The way he wanted it to. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“Fine. I’ll talk about it.” Louis paused for a moment, then began: “You made a mistake. You kissed the wrong person. You fucked up. Now, what are you going to do about it?”  
“It’s more complicated than that,” Liam said, running a hand through his hair. “You saw me in there. I couldn’t wait to hook up with someone else.”  
“Liam, Babe, didn’t you wonder why you ended up alone out here on the balcony at 3am, and not in bed with one of the millions of girls who are in love with you?”  
Liam shrugged. “I’m off my game.”  
“You’re in love with your boyfriend. He’s all you talked about in there. It was gross, actually,” Louis pulled a face.  
The lipstick mark of that other girl flashed across Liam’s mind. The warm way her full lips had fit against his, so different from Zayn’s. The way she’d tasted, like coffee and metal, whereas Zayn always tasted like mint and cinnamon.   
What was her name? Andrea? Angela? He didn’t even remember. It hadn’t mattered. He’d been at a club, and she was there, and her lips were purple and juicy. And he’d wanted to forget.  
That flowery scent, so alluring, when she’d unbuckled his pants and knelt before him.  
When he’d come in her mouth, Liam had only seen Zayn’s face. Only heard that song, playing over and over again. Only thought about all the ways Zayn wasn’t here, not for the start of school, not for Halloween, not over the summer.   
How he had been hoarding those first few months, when the record deal wasn’t finalized and Zayn was still with him, and how it had all run out. Burnt out on inside jokes that didn’t make sense anymore and cut-off phone calls. 

Liam wasn’t sobbing anymore, but tears streamed down his face. He sniffed.  
“Was that him you were talking to?” Louis asked.   
“Voicemail,” Liam muttered, barely able to get the words out.  
“Did he break up with you?”  
Liam shook his head.   
“Then it’s not over.”  
“It is over!” Liam burst out. “I cheated, and before I cheated, everything was shit. We didn’t talk. We never saw each other. It was like he didn’t even look at me, like he didn’t want me anymore.”   
“And I’ll say it again: Did he break up with you?”  
“No. He wants to try—but I don’t know if I can go through this again. All this—” Liam gestured at the horizon.  
Louis put his head on Liam’s shoulder, the smoke wafting around them both, reminding Liam painfully of Zayn again. “You love each other. You have to figure out if your love is enough to overcome what’s happened between you. If it’s greater than something that either of you did. If it’s enough to carry you forward. And you have to try.”  
“He’s the love of my life.” Liam whispered after a few moments. “I don’t see anyone else but him. It’s like my whole life, I was just waiting for him.”  
Louis nodded, putting her head on his shoulder. “I know, Li. I know.”  
They watched the sun rise together. 

September

“I can’t do this anymore, Liam!” Zayn shouted, his voice waking up the sleeping form of Harry, who had passed out on the couch. Harry’s head jerked up, his curls flopping onto his face. He looked around for a moment, then ducked back down at Zayn’s expression.  
“Sneaking around like we’re something to be ashamed of, like I should be ashamed. You shoved me in a fucking closet!” Zayn went on, pacing around the living room.   
Liam’s fist clenched at his side. “Sophia was coming over to work on something, and—”  
“And what were you gonna do if she tried to fuck you, huh?” Harry crept out of the living room into his bedroom, shooting Zayn a sympathetic look as he passed.   
Zayn waited until Harry had gotten inside before he continued, “Just go with it, because God forbid she finds out you have a boyfriend?”  
“I can’t come out right now.” Liam said, pressing his eyes into his hands. “You have to understand that. Please.”

Zayn took a deep breath. He walked over to where Liam stood, leaning against the refrigerator, and pulled at Liam’s wrists. “I know what you mean,” Zayn said finally. “But all this sneaking around—it’s like high school all over again. Waiting around a corner for somebody to shove my head in a toilet. And with my music—I don’t want it to seem like I’m hiding this. I don’t want it to seem like I’m ashamed of who I am.”  
Liam buried his head in Zayn’s shoulder, tears leaking from his eyes into Zayn’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” Liam sobbed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”  
“Baby.” Zayn said. “Baby—don’t cry, please. Why are you so afraid?”  
But Liam shut down again, stepping back out of Zayn’s reach. He grabbed an open beer can at random and took a swig out of it, wincing at the taste.  
“I know it’s bad.” Zayn said. “But you have to tell me.”  
Liam shook his head.   
“It’s me—Liam—I love you.” Zayn said the words before he could chicken out, and Liam froze. Zayn felt like he could see each one hit Liam, lighting him up. Then going through him, like throwing knives.   
Liam was in pain.   
Zayn hadn’t realized how much until now.

****

“Liam—I love you.” Liam felt everything in his body go still at the words, then flare bright orange. A warmth spread into his chest and stomach.  
And then turned to a slimy, lead weight.   
Liam pushed past Zayn out of the kitchen, through the living room, and onto the balcony. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with shaky hands.  
“I don’t deserve that,” Liam said finally, when Zayn appeared behind him. “I don’t deserve you, or any of this.”  
“Why? Your parents?”  
“No.”  
“The brothers?”  
Liam paused. “Kind of—no. I don’t know.”  
“Girls?  
“No—it’s just. If I do this—if I hold your hand in public, and kiss you on streetcorners, and bring you to football games—all of it changes. My whole life changes.”  
“Isn’t that a good thing? More people know who you really are?”  
“You know. Harry, Louis, and Niall know. Maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe that’s all I care about.”  
Zayn shook his head. “You don’t mean that. Coming out, Liam. It’s terrifying. It’s shitty and people will be dicks about it, especially your frat brothers, and the whole thing is one of the worst experiences of your life.”  
He walked forward and put his hand on Liam’s arm, pulling the cigarette toward him. Zayn inhaled, letting the smoke into his lungs, as Liam watched his eyes hungrily.  
“But it’s also one the best things. Because you find a new family. New friends who love you unconditionally. Who know how brave you are.” Zayn put out the cigarette.   
“I just feel so alone sometimes.” Liam said. “None of the other guys even know about you, and I can’t tell them. The girls are already talking about how I don’t ever wanna fuck anymore. And I’m supposed to be this guy in charge of everything, and everything is falling apart. And the scary thing is, when I’m with you, I don’t give a shit about any of it.”  
Zayn nodded, his brow furrowed. “Wait here.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“It’s a surprise.”  
“Zayn, don’t bring anyone—”  
“Wait.” Zayn kissed Liam long and slow, and Liam savored the taste. Wondering how many of these kisses he had left. How long it would take for Zayn to decide that he had had enough, that he wanted someone mature enough to handle coming out. That he was leaving.  
Liam closed his eyes, his lips forming perfectly to Zayn’s.  
Then a breath of cool air.  
Liam opened his eyes.   
Zayn was gone. 

A few moments later, Zayn reemerged, clutching his old acoustic guitar.  
“Zayn,” Liam said playfully, his dilemma entirely forgotten for a moment. “Did you write me a song?” I love you. He wanted to say it, but the timing wasn’t right.  
Zayn smiled, running his hands along the guitar to tune it. “I heard the melody that first night. The first time I saw you—”  
“I love you.” Liam blurted, interrupting Zayn’s sentence. He immediately turned bright red, furious at himself for ruining Zayn’s moment.   
But Zayn didn’t seem fazed. His eyes had grown big and wide, and they seemed to glow from within.   
And before Liam could say anything else, Zayn started to play:

"Don't look around 'cause love is blind  
And darlin', right now I can't see you  
I’m feelin' proud so without a doubt  
I can feel you

'Cause we are who we are when no one’s watchin'  
And right from the start, you know I got you  
Yeah, you know I got you  
I won’t mind  
Even though I know you’ll never be mine  
I won’t mind  
Even though I know you’ll never be mine

We messed around until we found the one thing we said we could never ever live without  
I’m not allowed to talk about it  
But I gotta tell you

 

'Cause we are who we are when no one’s watchin'  
And right from the start, you know I got you  
Yeah, you know I got you  
I won’t mind  
Even though I know you’ll never be mine  
I won’t mind  
Even though I know you’ll never be mine"

The notes faded out into the air, and Zayn could feel his whole heart fading out with them, coming over the sound waves to hit Liam full on, those words over and over again.   
I love you. I love you. I love you.   
Liam’s mouth was open, his cheeks wet. His lips pink and wide.   
“Zayn?” Liam whispered it so softly, Zayn barely heard it. “Come here.”  
Zayn put his guitar down, as if in a trance, and walked slowly over to Liam. Liam traced a line with his fingers up Zayn’s side, traveling along his ribs.   
“I’ll do it.” Liam said softly. “For you. I promise, Zayn. That was—no one’s ever done anything like that for me.”  
Zayn was crying now, his tears catching on Liam’s hands. “I’ve never had someone look at me—” Zayn whispered. “The way you’re looking at me.”  
Liam’s chest tightened. He couldn’t move. He could just feel this enormous rush of feeling, quaking through him.   
He’d never been more terrified in his life.   
Zayn nodded at Liam, and Liam could see how scared Zayn was, too. Feel it in the hesitation as his hands continued to trace over Liam’s body, one of them dipping into the hollows of his collarbone.   
With a swift movement, Liam’s hands grabbed Zayn’s, gently moving them back to his sides.   
Still making that blazing eye contact, still seeing that same terror and awe and beauty reflected in Zayn’s eyes, Liam pulled off his shirt.   
Then he took Zayn’s hand, towing him back to the bedroom.   
And Liam knew it would be different this time. Different than their feverish fucking of the past.   
This would be lovemaking, pure and simple.   
“I want to take my time with you,” Liam whispered into Zayn’s ear as he undressed him, his fingers stroking, searching, playing Zayn like an instrument, so that Zayn shook and moaned beneath his touch, letting Liam practically carry him onto the bed, his knees were so weak.  
“I want that with you, too.” Zayn whispered back, his own hands tracing over the dimple in Liam’s cheek, the soft curve of his ass, his thumbs flicking against the hollows of his hips as he drew Liam on top of him.   
And as they explored each other, each kiss whispered the words again, like a spell, like a secret, binding them together   
There was nothing else but that room. There was nothing else in the entire world but Zayn, and Liam.   
You know I got you. 

***  
The next morning, all of Liam’s social media profiles featured at picture of him and Zayn, wrapped up in a kiss.   
Sophia was furious. A few of the girls he’d hooked up with asked him what had turned him gay.   
Louis and Harry arrived at the frat house within minutes, bearing rainbow cupcakes.   
Niall patrolled the rest of Delta Sigma like a guard dog, glaring threateningly at any of the frat brothers who so much as looked at Liam funny. Then he made them do shots.   
And Zayn stayed right by Liam’s side even when the reporters arrived, his hip bumping against Liam’s.   
The notes of their song swirling around their heads.


	4. Let Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn tries to write a song, and thinks about Halloween. Light smut, a lot of angst. But you get Liam and Zayn as Batman and Superman.

Chapter 4: Let Me

December 29 7:30 PM

The studio was closed because of the holidays, which was how Zayn liked it. No managers babbling at him to modify his lyrics to make them more ‘radio-friendly.’ No songwriters talking to him about hooks and melodies and ‘concept albums.’   
There was just him, and his guitar, and a room that absorbed every sound he made.   
Just like the old days.   
Zayn pulled his notebook toward him, eyeing the scratched-out lyrics of the last few days. He’d been trying to write a hit. Trying to write something his label defined as ‘a bop.’ Trying to write something about partying all night, and swimming in cash, and having dates practically beg to give him blowjobs.   
But Zayn couldn’t write any of that. He’d start out that way, some cocky half=lines about money and rising from the bottom, and being so hot no one could touch him.   
And then cold would seep into his lyrics. A single image would lead him to another, so Zayn would start with the ring of foam around the top of a beer, and then move onto that foam surrounding Liam’s beard, and then he was thinking about Liam’s stubble scratching against his thighs, Liam’s strong hands around his waist, how Liam pulled Zayn into the hollow of his neck when they hugged, so that they fit together perfectly…  
Liam.   
Zayn plucked at a chord and let it reverberate throughout the room, trying to ignore the choking feeling in his chest. 

Sweet baby, our sex has meaning, 

Zayn tried the words out, trying to taste him in his mouth. Loop them around each other into more than an opening line.   
But everything he came up with fell too fast into clichés. Or hurt too much to make real.   
Zayn’s eyes caught on a few lines he’d written down earlier, back in October, when things had started to unravel. When Liam had felt farther and farther away, and Zayn was tired of feeling guilty and left behind and late. It was like they’d hit a wall with their relationship, an unending series of delayed and canceled and let down, and there was no going forward.   
Zayn checked his phone.   
Liam still hadn’t answered. 

For the rest of my life  
For the rest of yours   
For the rest of ours

The letters even looked hopeful, the lines lifting up at the end on the page. Zayn had thought they might be okay. He’d wanted to believe it.   
Maybe he was just kidding himself. 

Halloween

Liam was late again.   
Zayn paced his room anxiously, checking the clock, running his fingertips over his calluses, trying to calm himself down.  
Liam was late. Again.   
Zayn rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, trying to stop his mind from whirling. Trying to pluck coherent thoughts out of the tumble of stars shooting around in his brain, a never-ending swirl of white that never seemed to slow down unless he was here.   
Liam was late.   
Zayn touched the screen of his phone, bringing it to life for the twentieth time. When no notifications registered, he double-checked the internet connection, checking for the timestamp that meant his text, “You on your way?” Had sent.   
Zayn’s phone vibrated, and his manager’s name blazed across the screen: “Need you in twenty for the interview. You on your way?”  
Zayn’s chest tightened.  
Liam was thirty minutes late. Zayn hadn’t seen him in a month, and he was thirty minutes late for the hour he’d managed to allot for their time together, cobbled together from the tiny spaces between a hectic schedule of album promo and tour and video shoots.   
Liam had been late a month ago, arriving on his doorstep flushed and sweaty, saying something about traffic and his car breaking down and having to get a bike, before Zayn pulled him in and put his mouth on his.   
Their reunion had been thoroughly nonverbal until right before Liam had left for school the next morning, when they’d set up this time to meet.   
And now Zayn’s mind was racing again. Their texts, usually frequent and warm, had become sparse and perfunctory. A ‘good morning’ or ‘good night.’  
Zayn had stored up all these things to tell Liam when he saw him—about the fan who pressed her bare nipples against the window of his van, the interviewer at the talk show who claimed to be straight but definitely wasn’t, how Taylor Swift always smelled like baked cookies, even when she’d just walked offstage.   
But whenever they saw each other, Zayn had to cut his conversation. Reorder the anecdotes. Liam seemed interested in only the physical aspect of their relationship, and Zayn loved it, but he missed sitting in his car with Liam and talking with the windows down and the music tuned to a R&B station playing softly in the background as they drank coffee and watched the sun rise over the river. He missed when Liam had pledge week, and they’d brainstorm silly pranks to pull on the freshmen together. He missed the way Liam’s whole face would crumple into a smile whenever he told a story, laughing so hard sometimes that he couldn’t tell it.   
And all the things that Zayn had been thinking, the connections his mind had been making that he wished he hadn’t, were picking up speed again. He had to leave in fifteen minutes, and Liam still wasn’t here.   
Finally, a knock on his door. Zayn flung it open, not bothering to check through the keyhole like he’d promised his bodyguard.   
Liam was on the other side, and when he saw Zayn, he smiled.   
But it wasn’t the right kind of smile. His eyes didn’t crinkle at the corners like they were supposed to.   
Zayn’s stomach, always bad when he was nervous, clenched painfully.   
Liam walked in and closed the door behind him, and Zayn just looked at him, waiting. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Liam said. “I lost track of—”  
“Are you serious?” Zayn burst out. “The only time I can see you, and you—”  
“Well, sorry Zayn, but my life doesn’t revolve around you. I can’t just drop everything because you’re in town! I have fundraisers, and classes, and—”  
“What? Drunk coeds?”  
Liam’s mouth fell open in a soft, pink ‘o.’ His eyes glimmered, and Zayn felt a sickening surge of remorse. “Li, I—”  
Liam bit his lip, and his chin wobbled.   
“Baby.” Zayn said, reaching his arm out, but Liam flinched. Zayn gave a sharp intake of breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He said, finally succeeding in pulling Liam closer.   
Zayn rested his head on his chest, hearing Liam sniff above him. Feeling the steady, resonant drum of his heart. “I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t.”  
Zayn felt Liam nod against him. 

***

 

Liam didn’t want to fight with Zayn about this. It felt like all they did now was fight.   
Zayn would be gone, and tension was a huge knot in Liam’s stomach, and he’d build up all these ideas about seeing him again. What it would feel like to take Zayn in his arms. All the things he would say—the right things.  
He’d been trying so hard, but Zayn never followed the script in his head. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shirt hung off his frame, like he hadn’t eaten. His hands shook as he wrapped them around Liam’s shoulders. “Baby,” Zayn said softly. “I’m so sorry.”  
Liam nodded, but the hurt was still there. Lurking under his skin.   
Not just that Zayn had insulted Liam, but that he’d been right.   
Life as the president still went on, even after he’d come out. The only difference was that some of the sorority girls weren’t as interested in him as before.   
But a lot of them were. They wanted threesomes. Wanted him to take them home and invite Zayn over and see what happened.   
If he couldn’t get ahold of Zayn, they’d take him in the meantime.   
Liam had been at a party last night, and Stephanie was there. She’d sauntered over to him, and he’d spent most of the night trying not to look at her breasts, or take out some of the frustration he felt about Zayn on her.   
And it was just typical frat boy behavior.   
Liam pulled back from Zayn, wiping at his eyes. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”  
‘Liam.”  
“No.” Liam shook his head. “Really. Don’t worry about it.” He did his best to make his voice sound convincing. “it’s fine.”  
Zayn sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, in spite of Liam’s protests. “I’ve missed you, too, Li. Every day, I miss you. It’s constant, like a heartbeat. Underlying everything.”  
Liam shook his head. “You don’t need to miss me. You have all of this!” he gestured at the five star hotel they were in, the coffee and pastries haphazardly tossed aside, the security that no doubt resided in the hallway. “You can’t miss me.”  
Zayn’s hand tapped against his leg in a rhythm, and Liam wondered if he was writing a song. “You have no idea.”

***

 

Zayn had managed to wrangle these last few minutes out of his schedule, begging off an interview with a radio station. They’d pushed it to 4 am, but it didn’t matter.   
It was Halloween night, and he just need to see Liam. Needed to be Liam’s boyfriend for a while, the quiet guy who followed him around at parties, who kissed him for luck in beer pong, who held his hand across the gearshift when he drove.   
Zayn hadn’t really wanted to go to a party, but Liam’s house was packed, so he’d donned a makeshift Superman costume, wincing at the way the material sagged across his bony chest and thin abdomen.   
Zayn reminded himself that Liam didn’t care how skinny he was, didn’t care if he had a six pack or was four hundred pounds.   
Liam used to say he loved how thin Zayn’s shoulders were. It made him look like an angel.   
“An angel,” Liam had whispered, kissing Zayn right on his shoulder blades. “Sometimes I don’t think you’re real, Z.”  
But that was a month ago, the last time Liam and Zayn had seen each other.   
Did Liam think that Zayn was an angel now, after what he’d said earlier? How could he?   
Zayn hated himself for what he’d said. For how he’d implied that he didn’t have time for Liam’s life, now that he was the Zayn Malik.   
Zayn wanted everything about Liam’s life. He wanted the drama over the winter formal theme and the fits of sorority girls begging to be his date for the status and the grocery trips at 3 am because they’d forgotten to buy toilet paper.   
Zayn wanted to fit himself into all of the small spaces in Liam’s life. 

For the rest of my life,  
for the rest of yours…  
For the rest of ours 

The lines appeared in his head easily, as though he’d been waiting to discover them. Zayn pulled out his phone in the limo, whispering the lyrics into the audio recordings to play with later. Maybe that would help—writing Liam another song.   
He just hoped it wasn’t a break-up song.   
Zayn shoved the phone in his pocket and pressed his face against the glass. They couldn’t break up. They couldn’t.  
It wasn’t like Zayn was ready for marriage, but he loved Liam so much. He was everywhere.   
Zayn couldn’t imagine a life after dating Liam. It was like imagining the sky on the ground, to think of a world without Liam at his side. He’d be falling all the time.   
Without coming home to Liam, Zayn didn’t have a home at all.  
Zayn thanked the driver before rushing out of the car, dashing up the steps and flinging the door open.   
Louis had just finished his set, and Harry was on the small stage they’d constructed in the living room, helping put away equipment and handing his boyfriend a towel. Niall was already thoroughly engaged with a girl dressed as a devil in the corner, his angel’s wings a dead giveaway. (Niall had dressed in angel wings and lingerie. Just to be funny.)   
Zayn felt a sudden rush of nostalgia for when he’d been nothing more than a music major. No responsibilities, no one talking about what costume he’d wear.   
No interview scheduled in two hours.   
Zayn maneuvered his way around the couples on the dance floor, grinding and nearly having sex to whatever trap beat blasted through the speakers. This late, the parties at Delta Zig always got a little unhinged.   
One girl, still leaning against the wall, looked at him hopefully as he passed, then seemed to jolt in recognition. She opened her mouth, about to call his name, when Zayn pushed past her, dashing up the spiral staircase, his red cape flowing behind him.   
He reached the top just as Liam emerged from the bathroom, a girl dressed as a sexy nurse with bubblegum pink hair clutching her hands around the bat symbol on his chest, practically falling atop him as they stumbled out.   
Zayn’s chest tightened.   
Liam’s expression was unreadable from this angle, but Zayn couldn’t look away from the girl, anyway. Wide, expressive blue eyes. Pale skin.  
Her hands, moving around Liam’s chest to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. Liam bit his lip.   
And suddenly, Zayn was furious.   
Zayn sauntered up to the two of them, leaning into Liam and wrapping his arm around the other boy’s waist. “New friend of yours?” Zayn asked, his eyes cutting into the girl’s with a glare that made her take a step back.   
Liam looked panicked, and it was clear why when the girl said, “I was just interested in a threesome, if you guys are down.”  
Zayn’s chest tightened, and a wave of fury pulsed inside of him. “We’re not,” he growled, turning around abruptly and yanking Liam away.   
Outside, on the balcony, Zayn rounded on Liam.   
“What the Hell was that?”  
Liam shrugged. “She seemed nice.”  
“I told you I don’t want to do that. Why talk to her?”  
Liam shrugged again. “Nice hair. Bit tits.” He swayed, and Zayn realized he was drunk.   
“You don’t even know her name, do you? You don’t even care. The minute I turn around—”  
“Oh, calm down Z.” Liam rolled his eyes, pulling at Zayn’s cape. “I’m allowed to have fun. I’m allowed to have a life.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Liam looked away, a flare of panic lighting his eyes.   
“Liam. Come on, let’s go to bed.” Zayn tried to speak softly, tried to salvage what remained of the evening. Liam was drunk, Zayn had an interview in two hours, and he just wanted to lay next to him, and breathe him in. Pretend that everything was okay, because it never would be.   
Zayn looked past Liam, back through the sliding door that led to the balcony, to see the girl snapping a picture of them with her phone. Her eyes met Zayn’s before she blushed and looked away, typing something furiously onto her phone.   
Great. His manager was going to be so pissed.  
“I don’t want to go to bed.” Liam said. “Want to have fun. Want to have a threesome. Maybe we can get a Wonder Woman.”  
“Well, find a different Superman, because I’m not into it,” Zayn said, irritation edging his tone. “I’m going to bed. I have an interview”  
This seemed to upset Liam, because he stepped forward until Zayn could smell the liquor on his breath and jabbed his finger into Zayn’s chest. “M’ miserable without you.” Liam said, and beneath the veneer of drunkenness Zayn could hear the hurt in his voice. “I never see you anymore. You’re missing everything. I don’t even recognize you sometimes—”  
“Liam—” Zayn began, but was cut off by Liam’s hand clutching at his shoulder, his complexion a delicate shade of green.   
Before Zayn could do anything, Liam turned and vomited all over the patio. 

***

For the rest of my life  
For the rest of yours   
For the rest of ours

Zayn plucked at the last note on his guitar, letting it reverberate into the silence of Louis’ bedroom. He’d come and crashed here after the interview, hoping that the closeness to his old life, to who he had been, would assuage some of the guilt.   
He already texted Liam, asking if he was awake yet, but Liam still hadn’t answered.   
Zayn didn’t know what to say.   
Liam had been drunk, but Zayn had heard the truth in his voice. He wondered if this was how Liam had felt, the night Zayn had been signed. Like the world was shifting beneath his feet.  
Like if he didn’t do something soon, he’d be lost.   
Zayn swallowed, running a hand across his forehead. He was supposed to meet his manager in twenty minutes at the airport. He was supposed to be in LA in four hours.   
He was supposed to be recording a hit album, and planning a tour, and going to parties with beautiful people who only talked about themselves…  
Zayn looked at his phone again, then shut it off. He got to his feet, taking a deep breath and straightening his shirt. He would find Liam, and apologize, and play him the song. His manager would have to deal.  
Like Hell was Zayn letting Liam go without a fight. Like Hell.   
Just as he was about to go to the door, the knob turned, and Liam walked in. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was wet like he’d just showered. “Zayn?”  
The hurt in Liam’s voice, the hesitance, the way he wasn’t sure how he’d be received, had Zayn practically sprinting to him, taking his face in his hands and pulling Liam down for a kiss. Liam made a noise against his mouth, and Zayn stopped long enough to say, “I’m sorry, Li. I’m so sorry.”  
“I’m sorry!” Liam said. “Last night! That girl, I—I didn’t--”  
“I don’t want to lose you.” Zayn whispered.   
“You’re not going to lose me.” Liam whispered, as Zayn started to break down. He grabbed Zayn by the back of his head and put his forehead against his. “You’re never going to lose me, Zayn. I love you so much. Can’t you see it? Can’t you see how hard this is? How impossible?”  
And Zayn was kissing him again, desperately, their tears mingling on each other’s faces. Liam pushed him back onto the bed, crawling on top of him, and Zayn could feel everything in his chest, right above his stomach. He could feel the pull between them, like it always had been. Like gravity. Like Fate.   
Like stepping into the path of a moving car.   
Zayn kissed Liam, ripping at his clothes feverishly, both of their skin so heated that they burned against each other. Nothing was close enough.   
Zayn flipped Liam over and kissed down his torso, moving closer and closer to Liam’s dick, but it still wasn’t enough, and Liam was already reaching for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, whispering Zayn’s name, groaning, whimpering.  
And neither of them said any coherent words as Zayn rode Liam, harder than he had that first time, his fingernails leaving marks on Liam’s chest.   
Zayn couldn’t think, couldn’t see, anything that wasn’t Liam. Their tears turned to salty sweat, and even when Liam came inside him, Zayn didn’t stop kissing him, didn’t even crawl off of Liam until Liam hardened inside of him again.  
He didn’t want to leave this bed, didn’t want to do anything but make Liam cum over and over, until there wasn’t anything between them. Until the rest of the world fell away.   
But when it finally ended, and Liam collapsed onto the bed in sleep, Zayn got out of bed to check his phone, and send his manager an apologetic text.   
That was when Zayn nearly stepped on Liam’s phone, sending it skidding across the tile floor.   
Zayn picked the phone up hastily, checking to see if the screen was damaged, to see that Liam had three new messages from Stephanie. On Tinder.   
Zayn put the phone back down on the nightstand, his hands shaking. He bit his lip, watching Liam’s sleeping form. Tears streamed down his face, and his stomach clenched with a sob.   
He was crying when he climbed into his Escalade, replaying the last night in his head. Liam’s skin against his, flushed and sweaty. Liam’s chest, scored with marks from Zayn’s fingernails. “You’re not gonna lose me,” Liam had whispered.  
Zayn clenched his fists so hard, his nails left marks on his palms. Maybe Liam had forgotten to delete his account. Maybe he'd been really drunk last night.   
Maybe he was tired of being alone all the time. Tired of rejecting the dozens of girls who would show up at his house in an instant if he asked.   
Maybe Liam was tired of being with Zayn. 

Was this one of the last times Zayn would see Liam? The last time he’d fall into that bed, or pull Liam in for a kiss, or feel Liam shudder as he came apart beneath him?  
Maybe Zayn and Liam loved each other, but was that enough from across the country? Was that enough when Zayn wasn’t there?  
Zayn took a deep breath and stared out the window his driver pulled onto the tarmac.   
Was this the beginning of the end?


	5. "To Be Loved, To Be in Love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis talks to Liam about what it means to be in love. Liam thinks about the day he cheated on Zayn, when it all fell apart. 
> 
> sorry for updating so intermittently, it's just school, life, writing a novel, etc-- 
> 
> I promise this will be done before the end of January. I know where this ends, and I'm not stopping til I get there. 
> 
> As always, comment below and leave Kudos! I THRIVE OFF ENCOURAGEMENT. WRITING IS HARD.

Chapter 5: “To be loved, to be in love”

December 31 1:30 AM  
Liam replayed the message again, his head practically nodding to the rhythm of Zayn’s words as he watched the Airport departure times flash on the screens.   
Was he really going to do this?   
Next to him, Louis was whispering the words to a song under his breath, and Liam was distracted for a moment by the softness in his voice,   
“I have loved you since we were eighteen  
Long before we both thought the same things  
To be loved, to be in love “  
Before Liam could say anything to Louis, he stopped singing and pointed as the times for Los Angeles flashed in front of him. “There you go. One of these babies leaves in 25 minutes.”  
“I can’t do this.” Liam said.  
“Why not?”  
“I don’t even know if he’ll let me in. If I’ll find him.”  
Louis grabbed Liam’s phone and pressed speaker, replaying the message that Liam had heard over and over. 

“I don’t know if you’re getting this, but I’m not ready to give up on us yet…”

Liam’s chin wobbled, and he snatched the phone out of Louis’ hand. “He can’t be ready to forgive me,” Liam said. “I can’t even forgive myself.”  
Louis ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers twitched, which Liam knew meant that he wanted a cigarette. He huffed, looking around the airport for a moment, before he reached in his wallet and pulled out a silver credit card. “Fine.”  
“What are you doing?” Liam said. “This isn’t about money.”  
“I’m going with you.” Louis said cheerfully, already walking toward one of the Southwest airline representatives. “Two for LAX, quick as you can, please.” Louis said. The girl blushed and typed up the information on the computer. “ID?” She asked.  
“Hang on.” Louis said. He turned to Liam. “ID.”  
“What for?” Liam said stubbornly.  
“Well, we live in a post 9/11 America, Payne, so unless you want to get detained—”  
“Neither of us are going anywhere.”  
“Fine.” Louis sighed, making as if to turn back to the airline representative. Suddenly, he whirled, plucking Liam’s wallet from his back pocket.  
“Louis!”  
“Liam James Payne.” He read aloud, then passed the wallet to the airline representative. She rang them up quickly, and before Liam knew it, he was stumbling through security, Louis giving perfect answers to all the questions the TSA officers posed, seemingly unconcerned with the constant glares Liam shot him.  
“He’s going to tell his boyfriend he loves him. On New Year’s Eve. A real ‘when Harry met Sally moment’. Can you believe it?” Louis said to the TSA agent who ushered them through the weapons scanners.   
“I am not!” Liam growled back, but the woman just laughed, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes.  
“Some men just need a kick in the pants.” She said to Louis, who beamed with pride. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”  
“Lucky I have my dad’s credit card, really.” Louis grinned.   
Liam waited until they cleared security to round on Louis, who was walking jubilantly along the tiled walkway to their gate.   
“12A, 12A,” Louis muttered.   
“I can’t believe you just did that!” Liam hissed. “Those tickets were eight hundred dollars.”   
“Like that would stop me.” Louis rolled his eyes. “I’m doing you a favor. Your welcome.”  
“It’s not too late to get a refund. Come on, Louis,” Liam pleaded. “Let’s just go home.”  
Louis turned to him, completely ignoring the glares of hurried passengers as he interrupted the flow of traffic. The airport was crowded even at this hour, one of the caveats of flying out on New Year’s Eve. “Liam. You are not giving up on Zayn.”  
“I already did.” Liam argued. “I cheated. I gave up. We were drifting apart, and I didn’t want to hold on. I let him go.”  
“I know you don’t believe that.” Louis said.   
“I have to!” Liam burst out, tears springing to his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. “I have to let him go, because otherwise I’ll just be here, trying to get someone who’s already gone. Trying to turn back time and make everything that ever went wrong go right, when it was never going to work.. Trying to change, when—”  
“Listen to me,” Louis grabbed Liam by the edge of his sleeve and towed him to one of the benches. “Relationships don’t work out because everyone’s perfect. They don’t work out because the stars line up perfectly, and no one makes mistakes. They don’t—” he took a deep breath, and Liam saw how flushed his face was, how his eyes were moist with more than irritation from the fluorescent lights. “If you keep looking at this relationship like a tally of wrongs and rights, of ‘fate’ and ‘timing,’ then it’s over.”  
‘You have to try, Liam. That’s what I’ve been saying. You have to decide that you love Zayn, and you’ll make it work. You’ll accept mistakes, and you’ll figure out setbacks and distance and all the other bullshit. You’ll realize that with true love, there isn’t a happy ending. There’s just a commitment to moving forward forever.”  
“Forever?” Liam asked, his hand going to Louis’ cheek and touching one of the tears that rolled down it. “What do you know about forever?”  
Louis’ eyes flicked to his, then he dug around in his pocket, pulling out a gleaming engagement ring. “More than you think.” He said quietly.  
Liam looked at Louis for a long moment, at the tears in his eyes, the gleaming ring in his palm. He remembered the lyrics Louis had been singing softly.   
And he knew that he wasn’t ever going to stop loving Zayn.   
So he couldn’t give up.  
“Fine.” Liam said, his shoulders slumping.  
Louis grinned, shoving the ring back into his pocket and pulling Liam to his feet. “Let’s go.”  
When Louis excused himself to go to the restroom, Liam sent a text. Meet me and Lou in LA. The text said. Need backup.   
The person on the other end replied with the plane emoji and the thumbs up emoji, and Liam felt his chest warm more than it had in months

 

 

November

 

The steam from Liam’s coffee mingled with his breath as he looked out over the lake, pressing his fingers against the mug to warm them.   
Sunset was approaching, shafts of sunlight cutting through the descending mist, the shadows deepening, doomed to win. Darkness would overtake the bridge soon, and with it the cold, and he had only a flimsy hoodie and sparse gloves.   
He shivered.   
He knew he couldn’t wait much longer.   
There was a of silver, and then he appeared, walking casually down the walkway of the pedestrian bridge.   
Liam refused to watch him approach, taking another sip of the coffee, hoping it would do more to warm him. But it was cooling rapidly in the air, and the bitter scent was too strong. He still couldn’t replicate the way Zayn made it, the way the notes of the coffee almost sang to him, a welcome reprieve from the less-than-restful activity they always got up to the night before.   
Liam wanted to throw the coffee out, but he had a final in the morning, and a paper due tonight, so he kept drinking.   
He kept his eyes out on the water, on the cluster of turtles congregating around one of the banks. The dizzying drop from the bridge, the way he could almost see his own reflection in the surface.   
He tried not to see the place in the summer, with the paddle boarders and joggers cluttering the lake and its surrounding trails. The distant shouts of laughter and the barks of dogs as friends and families raced around the nearby open fields where the trails opened up. The smell of barbeque.   
He pinched his nose with one hand. No use thinking about that now. no use going back, not when—  
“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” He felt Zayn next to him more than he heard him, the way he had since that first day. Like Zayn carried around a tiny fire inside him, warming that side of his body.  
“Well. I’m always good for an excuse to procrastinate,” Liam said.   
“I’m sorry about Thanksgiving.”  
“So am I.” Liam muttered.   
Zayn ignored him. “There was this interviewer asking me about my new album, and then I had a meeting with my stylist, and I needed to record my falsetto for this new track—”  
“Yeah, I get it.” Liam said, but the harshness in his voice, always beneath the surface, couldn’t be hidden this time. “At least you made it now.”  
“Wanna come in the car? Talk?”  
“I’d rather not say any of this in front of your driver. Or your manager.”  
“I left Paul and James at home. I drove here.”  
Liam finally looked at Zayn, his chest tightening. “I don’t want to get in the car with you, Zayn. I’d rather freeze my ass off out here then get in your stupid, tinted Escalade and talk about us again.”  
“Liam?” Zayn’s voice came out like a thud from a blow, like the oof of air getting knocked from his lungs. “What is going on? Please, just tell me. We can work it out together.”  
Liam ran a hand through his hair, pulling on it as he did so, his face scrunching up as he tried to keep himself from crying. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “What’s going on with you?”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“You had a meeting with your manager. Your label needed you. There was an interview. A party. A bad internet connection. I’m tired of the excuses, Zayn. Tired of being the first thing you dismiss when life gets inconvenient.”  
“You’re not a thing to dismiss, Liam!” Zayn insisted. “You’re my boyfriend! I love you.”  
“There’s no proof of that,” Liam muttered. He took a shaky sip of his coffee. “I told you I loved you, we spent that night together last month, you swore you’d do better, and you—what—just go back to LA. Like it’s just another weekend? I needed you, Zayn.”  
“You could have called me.”  
“I tried!” Liam said. “But every time I called, because Stephanie said she couldn’t be just friends, because they were talking about me stepping down as president, because of my Mom asking me what ‘turned me’—”  
“What about me?” Zayn accused. “What about those SnapChats?”  
Liam took a step back. “What SnapChats?”   
“I saw those messages!” Zayn said. “On Halloween. You just always have to keep your options open, don’t you, Liam?”  
“You went through my phone?” Liam said quietly, the coffee turning his stomach. “You went through my phone while I was asleep?”  
Zayn’s eyes flashed. “Just admit it, Liam. Admit you slept with her.”  
“How can you say that?” Liam asked, his hand reaching for Zayn’s sleeve, all of his worry forgotten. “Zayn—”  
“If you needed me, you could have told me.” Zayn said. “But this—”  
And Liam was yelling now, furious that Zayn didn’t believe him. Furious that they were in this fucked up situation.  
Furious at himself, for looking at those photos Stephanie had sent. For nearly messaging her back. For keeping her number in his phone, even though he needed to delete it. Just in case. “You never listened!” Liam shouted. “I was yelling for you. I was pulling three-alarm fires. And you were that asshole with your feet on the desk, telling me that you couldn’t even smell smoke.”  
“And you’ve got plenty of options.” Zayn said, his cheeks flushed. “So why do you need me?”  
“Oh fuck you.”   
“I’m sorry I was happy for the first time in my life” Zayn said. “Sorry all my dreams are coming true. Sorry that the song I wrote about you was making me famous. Sorry I went to number 1.”  
“We went to number one.”  
“You want a songwriting credit?”  
“No—I want my boyfriend! I want you to stop running away from me. I want the space between us to bring us closer. I want—” Liam’s lip trembled. “I want you to fight for me.”  
“Liam—” Zayn put a hand on his shoulder, and Liam grabbed his hand. “I want to believe you.” Liam pulled Zayn into his chest. Zayn’s lips were against Liam’s throat, tasting his aftershave and the hard edges of his stubble. “You know I got you,” Zayn whispered against Liam’s neck, feeling the other boy’s pulse speed up. “I love you so much, Li.”   
“I love you, too.” Liam whispered, and Zayn twitched as he felt one of Liam’s tears land on his head and slither down onto his neck. “It’s just been really hard since you’ve been gone. Really hard to stay together.”  
Zayn pressed a kiss to the hollow of Liam’s neck. “You can fall apart with me,” he whispered. “Anytime you want. You don’t need to stay together for me. You just need to be Liam.”  
Liam took a shaky breath and leaned down, capturing Zayn’s lips with his. He tried to imbue all of his hopes in that kiss, tried to force himself to believe Zayn.   
To believe that Zayn would be there, even if it was hard.   
To believe that things would be different.   
But Liam’s chest still felt empty, and his head hurt from the caffeine.   
And he was afraid that when he fell apart, Zayn wouldn’t be there to catch him. 

***

 

The parties at Kappa Nu had always been insane, but this one was ridiculous. There were trays of Jell-O shots being passed around, and Liam hadn’t even noticed taking them.   
How many had he had? Ten? Fifteen?  
All he knew was that he was sweating in the hot tub, and someone was pressed hard against him.   
She whispered something in his ear, and then she was straddling his waist.   
His hands went to cup her backside, squeezing the firm flesh. The girl moaned against his lips.   
Her lips were purple, and they tasted like vodka.   
She batted her eyelashes at him, and then he was following her across the pool deck, to one of the cabanas at the back.   
Liam wasn’t sure what her name was, but he knew he needed to leave.   
It isn’t too late, he thought. Tell her you don’t want to do this. Tell her you have a boyfriend.  
But then he remembered Zayn at the bridge earlier, accusing him with nothing but a couple messages. Like he’d been waiting for Liam to mess up. Like he’d known he would all along.  
“I want to believe you,” Zayn had said when Liam had tried to defend himself. 

That’s what he thinks about me. Liam thought. He’s already given up. He’s just waiting for me to fuck up, so he can finally end it.   
And Liam knew that he loved Zayn anyway, knew that he loved Zayn enough to walk away from this girl. To tell her politely that he’d had a great time, but he wasn’t into it. That he was taken, even if Zayn didn’t want him anymore.   
Liam knew that he should be the better man. Should call Zayn, and take him up on one of those promises.   
Avoid this mistake.   
The girl shut the cabana curtains and pulled Liam to her, kissing him fiercely and undoing the ties on his swimsuit.   
Liam grabbed her by the shoulders as if to push her away….  
And then he pulled her in, molding her body against his.   
And even as he kissed her, even as she knelt before him, Liam could only think of Zayn.   
And he knew that this was the end.


	6. "Auld Lang Syne"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve invites reflections over old acquaintances, and new ones. And it promises the answer to the question that we've been building to: "Are we breaking up?"
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone. It's been a great ride, and I hope to post more great stories once my thesis is all done. As always, leave comments and kudos if you like it!

Chapter 6: Auld Lang Syne

December 31  
7:45 PM 

It was impossible to find solitude in L.A.  
All of Zayn’s haunts were packed with people, tagging along in his entourage as if going to get coffee or hanging out on a bluff overlooking the city was such an interesting endeavor, as if they weren’t just there to look important.   
Zayn had sought out coffee shops for their focused solitude. He’d taken walks along the lake to clear his head.  
In L.A., all of his old coping mechanisms did the opposite of what was intended. He was more anxious than ever after trying to walk for coffee this morning.   
Zayn was going crazy inside his house, and at the same time, the constant influx of human interaction had his stomach perpetually in knots.   
It was only a few hours until the evening’s party began—an fan-exclusive event where Zayn would play them a few songs from his new album and toast the new year.   
Zayn didn’t know why he’d let Paul talk him into this.   
Zayn would have to entertain everyone as they got drunk, partied, and posted painstaking reviews of his new album. He’d have to be gracious and charming, and he’d have to deal with forced hugs and filling awkward silences and the irritating titters of nervous laughter.   
They’d ask questions about his music and his creative process, and they’d make him take a million selfies, and he’d still have to smile for every single one, and say the right thing, even when they asked him about Liam.   
Zayn had tried to talk his manager into letting him play a cover or two. Auld Lang Syne, for example, was perfectly removed of any and all Liam-related attributes.  
“Fine.” Paul had said. “Let me put a song by Jepsen on your album.”  
“I’m writing everything on the album.” Zayn said through gritted teeth.  
“Then you’re writing everything you’re performing tonight, bud” Paul had said, clapping him on the back. “You want authenticity? You want real art? You gotta suffer for it.”  
Zayn didn’t reply to that. He didn’t want to compromise his integrity. He just wanted minimum safe distance. A way to avoid the destruction of his personal life for just a little while.   
Zayn had sat through the makeup artists and stylists without complaint.   
As soon as they were done, Zayn had politely excused himself to go to the bathroom, nearly sprinting to his bedroom and locking the door behind him.   
Zayn rushed into the master bathroom, letting his hands rest on the sink, bowing his head so that he could only see the warm, amber colored marble.   
He took a few deep breaths and looked up, catching his own gaze in the mirror.  
Zayn’s hair was perfectly quaffed, his makeup was done, and he was wearing skinny jeans that felt like they’d fused to his skin. He traced the perfect eyeliner that outlined his features, used his own finger to curl around one of his eyelashes. Pouted his lips at his own reflection, then scowled, wondering at the effect. Trying to make himself certain that the figure in the mirror really was him. that the confident-looking musician with designer clothes and brilliant amber eyes and easy confidence wasn’t just the persona he was putting on.   
And then he thought, If Liam could see me now…  
And he watched as the man in the mirror’s face crumpled, as a tear dripped down past that perfectly outlined eye, made a track though that smooth, unblemished face.   
And Zayn couldn’t make it out of his bedroom.   
He sprinted to his closet, wrenching the door open and throwing himself inside, pressing his back against the wall and switching the light off.   
While the closet stretched out into its own sitting and changing area, this part was just a narrow hallway, with coats pressing into his back and his feet pressed against the door. It was nearly claustrophobic, filled with a musty smell that mingled with the four kinds of cologne they’d sprayed over Zayn to mask the scent of smoke.   
Zayn wished he could light a cigarette, but he’d never hear the end of it if his manager caught him smoking inside. Worse, he knew that the telltale scent of cigarette smoke would almost certainly cause his hiding place to be discovered.   
Instead, Zayn pulled on the sleeve of one of his old hoodies, bleach-stained and torn from his first attempts at laundry, until it landed on the ground next to him. He shoved his face into it, inhaling past the scent of lavender detergent until he found it---stale smoke.   
It was a soothing balm, rising around Zayn’s face and caressing his cheeks. He rubbed his face in the jacket, allowing the scent to sweep him into memories of stumbling drunk through the streets, allowing a drag queen to press a kiss to his cheek after a show, playing his music at four in the morning at a 24 hour coffee shop while the dregs of the night slowly filtered in and out, raucous and eager, exhausted and depressed.   
He inhaled the way he’d felt playing music back then, like the soundtrack of the city. Like part of the people he played for, who mouthed the chorus to themselves as he crooned it over the shitty mic the place had offered him. Who sent him drinks to communicate their gratitude, or simply offered a compliment because they couldn’t afford anything else.   
He thought about Liam, watching Zayn play “I Won’t Mind” for the first time. The way nervousness had shaken Zayn’s limbs into near paralysis. The way his fingers had stumbled over the chords. The way that looking at Liam afterward had felt like holding a note, refusing to take a breath until Liam had pulled Zayn in.   
Zayn took his face out of the hoodie, the memories once again recalling that tinge of bitterness that favored even the strongest reminisces. He knew how it all ended, and it made the story a tragedy. It made every moment of recalled happiness nothing but a false sense of security to lull him into a deeper pain.   
Zayn sighed and pulled out his phone, ignoring the myriad of messages from Paul ordering him to start entertaining   
Instead, he opened the Notes section of his phone, staring at the last words he’d typed last night, just before he’d fallen asleep. 

"I’m still waiting for you.  
In spite of all that it takes  
My heart’s already broken   
But I still have promises to make"

They weren’t good lines—there was too much pain in them. Too much sudden disbelief. He knew that he needed the distance, needed to know the aftermath, to write the story.   
Zayn just wanted to know if what Liam had said was true.  
“Are we breaking up?”   
And still, Zayn couldn’t understand why he was writing lines like this. Why he’d left that voicemail. Why he kept going back to that stubborn, unrelenting hope. 

Suddenly, a Snapchat notification pinged across his screen, and Zayn pressed the icon without thinking, then recoiled. “Ugh.” Zayn said aloud, then typed a quick response. Stop sending me close ups of your face that look like your ass.”  
The reply was a close-up of somebody’s lips, then a shot of an airport runway.  
With palm trees in the background.   
Zayn’s heart was racing, and he was typing a question when Louis wrote, “Harry and I are coming to the party. Hope that’s okay?”  
Zayn texted the affirmative, then paused. He started and deleted three sentences. Hey, is anyone else coming? Have you talked to Liam? Is Liam coming?   
He closed out of the conversation before he could send any of them. Instead, Zayn switched his phone off and put it in his pocket.   
Liam wasn’t going to call or text, that was obvious.   
And a call or text wasn’t enough anyway, not anymore. Not after what he’d done.   
Maybe their relationship had been falling apart for a while. Maybe cheating was only a symptom that something else was wrong.   
But Zayn would not become the man who settled for anything less than what he’d deserve.   
It was time for Liam to fight for him. It was time for grand gestures and spontaneous declarations and putting everything at risk.   
It was New Year’s Eve. Zayn would have either fireworks or silence.   
“ Even if there were fireworks,” a voice inside Zayn’s head said. “Even if he was standing in front of you right now, begging you to take him back, would you?”   
Zayn couldn’t answer. 

 

***  
11:55 PM  
Liam couldn’t find Zayn.   
This house was huge, and people were so pressed up against each other that it was impossible to move from room to room.   
He should have just done this earlier, when Zayn had been playing his New Year’s Eve set. He shouldn’t have run away like a chickenshit like he always did.   
He shouldn’t have waited this long…

Zayn had started his set with “I Won’t Mind,” and Liam could have sworn that Zayn had seen him, for just a second. Felt him, even, by the way his eyes were casting around the room, searching.   
But after the set, Zayn had leaped down from the makeshift stage and immediately began hugging and taking selfies with fans.  
Liam, Louis, and Harry stood at the back, watching him as he was engulfed in a seemingly never-ending wave of adoration.   
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Louis said admiringly.  
‘I’m so happy for him.” Harry added.   
Liam said nothing.   
The prospect of coming up to Zayn in that huge crowd had paralyzed him. He was drowning in guilt and self-doubt. How could he expect Zayn to take him back when he had all of this? How could Zayn settle for Liam when there were probably a hundred guys in this room alone who would be absolutely devoted to him?  
Zayn had gone somewhere that Liam could not follow. It was better that Liam accept it.   
Louis elbowed Liam. “Go get your picture.” He winked, but Liam shook his head.   
Before Louis could say anything, Liam walked away from them, shoving through the crowd until he emerged outside, where the backyard opened into a bluff that overlooked the city. Liam stuffed his hands in his pockets, shivering slightly at the cool breeze that blew in from the ocean.   
The air smelled like flowers, and the lights twinkled below him, promising possibility and adventure.   
Promising the grand, beautiful world awaiting anyone who could make it in this city.   
And Liam didn’t belong here.   
He pulled out his phone, opening the messages for Zayn once again.   
He still hadn’t responded. He still wasn’t sure if he should. If he should just cut his loses and go back home, pretend that he’d only come here to make Louis propose to Harry, pretend that he was alright, that this was what he’d wanted.   
But Liam was still thinking about Zayn, just a few hundred feet away. Maybe looking for him in that room. Maybe thinking that there was still a way for them to make it.   
He heard the soft tread of footsteps on grass behind him, and he turned to see Louis, stumbling down the slope with a cigarette in his hand.   
Louis lit it and stared out over the city next to Liam.   
“Where’s Harry?” Liam asked.   
“Saying hi for us,” Louis said.   
For a few moments, Liam just listened to the comforting rhythm of Louis’ breaths as he inhaled and exhaled the smoke.   
Finally, Louis broke the silence. “I’m really fucking scared, man.” His voice shook.  
“Me too.” Liam agreed fervently.   
“I don’t think he has any idea,” Louis went on. “He’s always talked about marriage and kids, but it was someday. It wasn’t—now. And now it feels like—”  
“Like we’re about to jump off this fucking bluff, and we’d better hope to God there’s a mattress at the bottom.” Liam finished.   
Louis shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not chickening out on me, are you?”   
Liam shook his head firmly. “No. I’m gonna be like Sally in that movie—”  
“Harry’s the one who makes the New Year’s Eve declaration.” Louis corrected. “Honestly—you’re so uneducated.”  
“And you are? Since when? You’ve always hated that romantic crap.”  
“Since Harry.” Louis said quietly. “Since Harry, I don’t really mind it all that much.”  
Liam shook his head.   
Louis shrugged. “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”  
Liam broke into a smile. “That’s beautiful, Louis. Is that one of your songs?”  
Louis smacked him.

 

Now, Zayn was nowhere to be seen. Liam had tried tracing him by the rise and fall in conversation, hoping a few fans would scream or giggle particularly loudly, and he’d be able to hone in. But everyone was talking to the person next to them, seemingly unbothered by the empty state of the stage.   
The floor surrounding it was dark, and there was some pop mix being blasted over the house’s surround sound speakers. Off in the kitchen, fans were toasting the New Year already with the expensive champagne that had been circulating all evening.  
Everyone seemed like they were having the time of their life.   
Everyone except Liam and Louis, who were still scouting around for Zayn. Harry trailed behind them both, smiling at everyone who passed and muttering polite apologies as Louis and Liam shoved their way through the crowd.  
“He’ll be out for midnight,” Harry called to them over the music. “He wouldn’t leave his fans to celebrate without him.”  
“It’s 11:58,” Liam argued. “He might not be coming—”  
Suddenly, a spotlight swept across the floor. The crowd’s excited partying grew into feverish cheering, and Liam’s eyes were riveted to the stage as Zayn emerged as if from nowhere, his all-black outfit blending in with the darkness and making him look like a shadow onstage.  
Liam’s jaw dropped at the sight of Zayn, so ethereally thin, his dark hair perfectly styled and his eyes outlined in pure black.   
As Liam watched, Zayn swept across the stage to the piano at the edge of it, smiling bashfully at the crowd as he did so.  
“Now’s your chance,” Louis whispered in his ear.  
Liam’s stomach rose up into his throat, but he refused to let nerves take him down a second time. He shoved through the crowd, not even caring if Louis and Harry followed, until he was right in the front.   
Just in time for Zayn’s voice to start the song.   
One Liam had never heard before. 

"Sweet baby, our sex has meaning…"

 

***

 

"Sweet baby, our sex has meaning "  
Zayn was supposed to be singing a piano version of “I Won’t Mind,” and he should have. It hurt much less than this song, and the way it promised things he was in no business of holding onto.  
He’d planned “I Won’t Mind,” but then he’d sat at the piano, and the notes had spilled from his fingertips. As if his body had just been waiting for a moment to start playing.  
Zayn looked up for a moment to see Paul, signaling that it was one minute until midnight.   
Zayn was supposed to stop the song and start the countdown with his fans, but he got to the chorus instead, and his gaze swept over the audience as he sang,  
“Baby, let me be your man  
So I can love you  
And if you let me be your man…   
Zayn felt the words pour out of him, and then suddenly there was a jolt in his chest. A sharp tug, imploring him to look at the crowd again. Like a whisper in his heart.   
His fingers stuttered over the keys.  
Zayn caught the melody again, continuing smoothly through the second verse, casting his eyes out over the crowd to make sure no one had noticed.  
And that’s when Zayn saw Liam.   
Worn, weary-looking. His stubble several days old, and his dress shirt wrinkled from where he wore it over his jeans.  
His mouth so soft-looking as he whispered the words to himself.   
And then his eyes locked with Zayn’s.   
And Zayn didn’t care that it was almost midnight. He didn’t care if his fans missed the countdown.  
Because Liam was here.  
He was here.   
Liam.   
Zayn kept playing the song, watching Liam out of the corner of his eye as he stepped onstage.   
One of Zayn’s security guards started forward, then stepped back as Zayn shook his head.   
Liam arrived next to him just as Zayn launched into the chorus again, and Zayn didn’t understand how Liam knew the words, but he was singing, his voice blending flawlessly with Zayn’s.   
For the rest of my life  
For the rest of yours  
For the rest of ours…   
Zayn played out the last few notes of the song, letting it fade away .   
And only when he turned around again did he see Liam.  
On his knees.   
The crowd was dead silent, but for the shushing of Zayn’s more insistent fans. Liam’s voice rang out like a bell across the room as he began to speak:  
“You’re the love of my life. And I know—I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been selfish and cruel and I’ve—messed this up.” Liam’s lip quivered. “And I understand if you don’t love me anymore. If you want to give this up and let me go, but I—” he took a deep breath. “I’m always going to love you, Zayn. I think I did, even before we met. I think my whole life, I was just waiting for you. And that’s never going to change.”  
Zayn could feel his heart pounding in his ears, and the hush of the crowd behind him. His breath went shallow, and his hands shook.   
And Zayn knew that he should probably walk away. Bring Liam offstage and tell him that there were no second chances. That love wasn’t enough to fix all that was broken between them.  
“It’s too hard,” Zayn whispered to himself, and one girl in the front row started to cry. “It’s too hard.” Zayn said again, and she nodded as he looked back into Liam’s dark eyes, into the soulful and devastating sentiment pouring out of them. “I can’t—go through this again. You hurt me, Liam. So much.”  
Liam bowed his head, and he started to get up, but Zayn was already rushing toward him, pulling at his hands until Liam got to his feet.   
“I’ll go,” Liam said, his eyes meeting Zayn’s. “I don’t expect anything—I—I just thought you should know. I am so sorry.”  
They were both fully crying now, and Zayn wanted to push it away. Push away Liam, and the feelings he represented. The wide, devastating capacity for hurt.   
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but squeeze Liam’s hand in his own, and put to words the emotions rising within him, the strength they held, terrifying and all-consuming and absolute. “I don’t know if I—it’s going to be so hard, Liam. So hard to put us back together.”  
Liam nodded, “I don’t expect—” he began again.  
But Zayn interrupted him, catching at his chin with his hand so that Liam’s words stopped midsentence. “I will love you forever. I won’t give you a pass on your mistakes, and I don’t expect you not to call me out on my shit. And we have to do better. Both of us. But I don’t think I could live with myself if I let this be the end.”  
Liam touched the bottom of Zayn’s lip, tugging on it, and Zayn heard the crowd murmur. He moved his hand around to the back of Zayn’s head, catching at the hair on the nape of his neck.   
“For the rest of my life,” Zayn swore.   
Liam pulled him in, and as they kissed, a cascade of balloons fell from the ceiling, accompanied by streamers and confetti. Distantly, fireworks crackled through the air.   
Outside on the bluff, Louis Tomlinson embraced his new fiancé, who knew what question he was going to ask the minute he’d started singing the chorus of his latest song.  
I have loved you since we were eighteen 

But Liam and Zayn didn’t notice any of that. They barely felt the balloons and confetti, and the roar of the crowd and the sharp reports of fireworks were so much meaningless noise.  
They were too busy wrapped up in each other, in old acquaintances and the stunning brilliance of a future filled with love and happiness. The prospect of bitterness and pain mingled with unrelenting joy and fearless love.  
The promise of an entire life…  
Of Auld Lang Syne.


End file.
